


(Put) Out and About

by Boomchick



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Dirty Mouths Abound, Drinking, M/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: Prompt fill from TumblrReno’s got the hots for a certain Leslie Kyle, and jumps at his chance in a seedy Wall Market bar.
Relationships: Reno/Leslie Kyle
Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774831
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	(Put) Out and About

**Author's Note:**

> One of a series of prompts written on Tumblr for those who are supporting the BLM movement. This one was requested by enide-s-dear.tumblr.com
> 
> If you've donated, protested, or otherwise supported black lives, you can come and make a request too! https://boomchickfanfiction.tumblr.com/

Reno was feeling at the cut on the inside of his mouth as he waited at the bar. He didn’t mind so much– asshole in the back alley had gotten a lucky swing in on him before Reno paid him back double.

It had been a good punch, though. Crushed the interior of his cheek against his teeth, split the skin in his mouth, left him spitting blood, no big deal. But it made the whiskey burn more than it usually did, and he couldn’t decide if he was into it tonight or not.

Then fucking Leslie Kyle wandered into the bar, and his night took a goddamn turn for the more interesting.

Leslie could have worked for anyone. Pretty enough to be Andrea’s right hand man even with his sour-ass attitude. Hard enough to be Chocobo Sam’s protege. Cold enough to give even Madame M a run for her money. But for some reason, he was the one pretty-boy employed by The Professional Worst Guy, Don Corneo.

And Reno would admit, he was a little obsessed with unlocking that particular puzzle.

Rude would have put a hand on his shoulder and shaken his head. Might even have carried Reno out of the bar over one shoulder before letting this go any further. But Rude was out working, and Tseng had given Reno the night off, and Reno was in the mood to make bad choices because of that. He didn’t like being left out. Even if it was for ‘rest and recovery.’ It was just a little scrap with some shitty weirdo Soldier-wannabe.

Who’d almost killed him in the church, while Aerith sprinted forward in a sudden burst of concern and–

Oh, hoo boy, he did not want to think about that. Targets and warm fuzzy emotions did NOT go together. So he thought about Leslie instead.

“Tell me you’re leaving.” Leslie said, bellying up to the bar next to Reno rather than trying to avoid him.

Cool as frozen steel, that yellow stare. He didn’t spare Reno a glance, scanning the wall of liquor as if he didn’t have it memorized. As if he didn’t always order the same thing.

“Hey,” Reno yelled to the guy behind the bar, tapping on the counter. “Get this guy a scotch. Straight. On me.”

“No.” Leslie said, eyes cutting to Reno at last.

“No to which part?” Reno asked, grinning. “Straight? Or on me?”

“Reno.” Leslie said. It was flat. Could have been mistaken just for a statement of fact. But Reno grinned at the silent threat.

“Just buying a friend a drink,” Reno said. “Any pal of the don’s a pal of the Turks, after all.”

“And any pal of the Turks is dead meat.” Leslie said, glaring daggers at Reno. “What do you want.”

“Who says I want anything?” Reno leaned against the bar. Felt bandages and bruises pull. Poked at the bloody wound in the side of his cheek mildly.

“You always want something.” Leslie said, not picking up the drink when the bartender set it down.

“Maybe I’ll only tell you in private.” Reno lifted his eyebrows. “Wanna dance?”

“Why.” Leslie’s glare didn’t falter for a second. “You need to piss that badly?”

“Maybe I just wanna get nice and fresh.” Reno replied.

Leslie stared flatly, then slowly picked up the scotch. He tossed the liquid straight into Reno’s face, splashing the Turk.

“The don’s men don’t squeal.” He said flatly. “Take it up with my boss.”

“Son of a bitch!” Reno exclaimed, genuinely startled. Anger flared, brief and hot, but then, goddamn, he looked up and Leslie was SMIRKING at him, and if that wasn’t the–

“You’re paying for that.” Reno snarled, grabbing Leslie’s jacket.

He dragged him away from the quickly parting crowd. No one wanted to get involved. They all wanted to forget what they saw. Until someone paid them to remember it.

Good news, though. Meant that Reno locking the bathroom door only gave everyone outside time to gossip.

“I LIKE this suit.” He whined, turning to Leslie, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, completely unphased, his head tilted so he could look at Reno from under the brim of his hat like he was some young punk. The wall behind him was crusted in graffiti, built up over years and years of the world’s scummiest bastards leaving their mark on the world.

“Eat a dick, Turk.” Leslie said.

“Sure.” Reno scoffed. “Yours on the menu?”

Leslie didn’t bother bantering more. It wasn’t his style. He just grabbed Reno’s lapel and dragged him forward. Licked a broad trail up his cheek, gathering the taste of scotch and sweat, before pressing a crushing kiss to his lips.

Yeah, Reno thought. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was the taste he wanted. Not blood and whiskey. Blood, scotch, and Leslie. Hell of a cocktail.

“I think maybe,” He panted “You oughta be the one eating dicks. I bought you a drink, after all.”

“And I gave it back.” Leslie said, flat and even, yellow eyes so intense this close, so sharp. Like a goddamn bird of prey.“So I’d say we’re even.”

“Fuck it.” Reno said, shrugging out of his jacket and letting it fall rumpled. “You’re right. I got the drinks. SO dinner’s on you.”

“You’ve got to chill.” Leslie said, rolling his eyes. But he unbuttoned his fly, glancing to the door. “Think I should pretend to be getting an ass kicking in here?”

“Don’t worry,” Reno said, grinning sharply at him. “I’ll take care of that. Making men scream is something of a specialty of mine.”

It turned out there was one cocktail he liked even more than scotch, blood, and Leslie’s tongue. The salt burned the cut inside his cheek better than the whiskey had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and for the request!  
> Please donate to https://atlsolidarity.org/ if you can to support my local BLM movement!


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